<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Of full stomachs, and (not so) empty hearts by korereapers</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24978373">Of full stomachs, and (not so) empty hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/korereapers/pseuds/korereapers'>korereapers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FE3H fic series [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:28:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>681</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24978373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/korereapers/pseuds/korereapers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a difference between cooking to survive, and cooking for someone you love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FE3H fic series [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of full stomachs, and (not so) empty hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddamnbox/gifts">Goddamnbox</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this was made as a gift exchange/collab. I'm still like *insert silly giggle*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Unbeknownst to many, Dimitri actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>cook.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was taught as a child, sometimes by his step-mother, sometimes by Gustave. The man used to insist, sternly, that a king should know how to cook for himself, how to find edible ingredients. Something to eat among the weeds, a stray animal that could be easy to hunt and even easier use to to placate hunger. Conflict used to come often to Faerghus, and no monarch would be a good ruler if they didn’t know how to take care of themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily or not, that kind of mindset was what saved him while he was an errant warrior. Harsh training had hardened him in some aspects, so Dimitri survived when he needed to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sadly for him, there is a difference between cooking to survive, and cooking for someone you love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He loves Dedue, deeply. And Dedue loves cooking, like it’s a part of him, of his nurturing self that is just that good at making others feel full, and loved. He envies that, in a way. A part of him reminds him, grimly, that no matter how hard Dedue tries, he is unable to taste anything he cooks. He can feel how much love there is in the food, but it will never make him hum in delight like it does to others.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dedue's nurturing nature is wasted on someone like him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, the least he can do is to try. For him, for Dedue, whose eyes light up when Dimitri suggests cooking together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not usual for them to just do this, together and alone in the royal kitchen. A reminder of both happy and uncertain times, during their days as students, and then the war. It’s different like this, with no rush. Just alone, together, enjoying themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spices are tricky for Dimitri, that’s why he doesn’t really use them when he cooks for himself. That, and that he cannot taste them, regardless. His hand moves uneasily, and Dedue seems to notice. He freezes, because he hasn’t really told Dedue about his condition. He doesn’t have the heart to do it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dedue’s eyes are piercing, and sometimes, Dimitri wonders about how well the man can read him. They have known each other for around ten years now, and Dedue seems able to anticipate his every moment. And vice versa. He likes it most of the time. At the moment, it's outright scary.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I apologize. You know I’m bad at seasoning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am aware. Don’t fret.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri sighs, actually relieved when Dedue takes care of the seasoning while he successfully tries not to cut the whole table with a knife. His crest does make things harder, sometimes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is made for war, for violence. That much he knows. But using his body for nurturing, to take care of others, is a nice change of pace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have known for some time, actually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Dimitri almost cuts the table in half.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You… I beg your pardon?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know. You don’t have to pretend in front of me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri doesn’t sense anger in his tone, nor his posture. Dedue’s expression is as relaxed as ever. He isn’t even looking at Dimitri, probably trying not to look or sound accusatory. Dedue has always cared a lot about that, about how others perceive him. It stings, but he understands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I should have told you. It’s-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should have.” Dedue says, interrupting him and his train of thoughts. “But I know why you decided not to. And I really appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri falls silent, his face a little red, hands tense as he leaves the knife safely far from his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Dedue. For everything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At that, Dedue finally smiles. Warm, open, genuinely fond. Slightly bashful. It’s the expression Dimitri likes the most, the one he dreams of and the one that keeps him awake at night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I trust you.” Dimitri mutters, a little embarrassed. “Despite everything, I want you to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dedue’s hand is close to his, warm, warmer than should be possible. A little tense, like Dimitri’s. His face equally flushed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>now i'm hungry</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>